January 23: Hospital Angels
by pandolfi
Summary: Hospitalized after severe burning, Hermione lays in bed as Harry looks on. Part of the Tomorrow universe. HBP spoilers.


_Disclaimer: the Harry Potter universe belongs to JK Rowling. Yay for Book 7 if it's better than HPB._

Part of the 'Tomorrow' seventh year universe: Harry returns to Hogwarts as Dumbledore asks in his will for extra training. As Death Eaters start killing more and more Muggles and wizards, Ginny and Harry get back together and Ron and Hermione go out, but both relationships are strained underneath by personal tensions. When Harry covertly leaves Hogwarts to go find and attempt to destroy a horcrux, Ginny makes a fatal miscalculation and a split occurs along familial lines: only Hermione accompanies him on his epic journey.

Prequel to be posted shortly: "January 21: Better"

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**January 23: Hospital Angels**

The morning light of a beautiful sunrise shone through the grimy window of the Sri Lankan hospital. Though an uneasy peace had prevailed on the island since the signing of a ceasefire, the evidence of war marred the concrete and brick walls of the hospital. A fist-sized hole had been made in the wall by a bullet, and through this hole Harry looked onto giant tree ferns reclaiming the broken asphalt of an abandoned parking lot. The lushness of the jungle just beyond had captivated him since his arrival with a severely burnt Hermione.

Harry, brushing his matted and unruly hair off his face, turned to look at her in the bed. Her hair had been washed by the nurses along with her upper body when she was admitted. Hermione, now sleeping peacefully, looked almost normal, as her legs were covered by a cotton blanket propped up in the form of a tent. Underneath that thin covering, though, Harry knew that they had been horribly burnt. He had seen it, then, for a moment, before Hermione, through what had to have been a sea of pain, illusioned them and hid them from sight. He shuddered in the plastic chair, thinking about it, his shadow shifting in the early half-light.

Harry sat like that with closed eyes, simply thinking about the failed quest to find the horcrux and of memories of Hermione, the latter for reasons he could not fathom. After what seemed like hours he heard the door opening and raised his face to the noise, only opening his eyes when he heard the unknown person cleaning her throat. A nurse stood there, the one that spoke fluent English, dressed in white from cap to slippers. She spoke suddenly, catching Harry off guard.

"Mr. Hamilton?"

He thought quickly for a moment. Jane Hamilton was Hermione's alias, which would mean…

"No, no!" Harry flushed red. "I'm Alex Renard. She's Ms. Hamilton."

The nurse turned to Hermione's bed, apparently unembarrassed by her mistake, and checked the wrinkled bedside chart mounted on the footboard. "Yes, sorry. Would you be able to take a message for her, as she is not awake at the moment?" Harry nodded his head once in assent. "Please tell her that a certain MM asks her to return home at once. There has been a fire and her brother has been killed."

Harry took in a sharp breath, eyes suddenly filling with tears. Her brother… no, no, that couldn't be true. A flash of red hair flew through his mind with a smudge on a nose that would never come off—the nurse was talking again, and he forced himself to listen, in case there was more news.

"Separately, sir, please offer my condolences to Ms. Hamilton also. She has been through a lot, I am sure, and I do not believe this news will help at all." She left the room quietly, slippers silently whisking on the tile floor, closing the door behind her. The click of the handle echoed in the silent space.

Harry walked over to Hermione's bed, freely crying but without making a noise. As he bent over her slumbering face a tear fell onto her left cheekbone and she stirred, partly opening her eyes. She spoke in a voice hoarse by disuse after a minute of orientating herself. "Harry? What's wrong?" Hermione tried to life her hand from the bed and half-slapped the mattress, releasing a small cloud of dust. "Sit down. What—" Harry embraced her torso gently and lifted her, with no small effort, to a sitting position.

"It's Ron." He started crying again, fat tears staining the bedsheets.

"What did he say? Did we finally get a message from home?" Hermione's voice quivered with excitement, and through his sorrow Harry felt a pang of something he couldn't explain.

"No. He's dead."

The words hung in the air, darkening the incoming sunrise. Hermione spoke after a minute. "No. No. It can't be, as long as Ron had stayed at Hogwarts he'd have been safe, nothing could have happened to him, the wards were just renewed…" She trailed off as her voice cracked and Harry cut in. "McGonagall said that he died in an attack on Hogwarts… Merlin, what about the other students?" He swallowed hardly, a lump suddenly in his throat.

Hermione said nothing else, her head dropping onto the bed as she fell in an unnatural position. She hauled herself up by one elbow, gritting her teeth, and reached out to comfort Harry. He gladly relaxed against her and they both sat there in relative silence, broken only occasionally by a sniffle or the movement of a hand to wipe away renewed tears.

After some time the English-speaking nurse came in. "Oh—Ms. Hamilton, you are awake, good. It is time for your morning medicinal bath before your breakfast; you can finally have toast today! Mr. Renard, would you—" Harry took Hermione's other arm and guided her, with the nurse's help, into a rickety wheelchair upholstered in cracked green plastic.

As they left the room a beam of sunlight shone in through the hole in the wall, illuminating Hermione's hair. When he looked down at the corona surrounding her head, Harry thought she looked like an angel. Then he looked away, down the hallway, towards breakfast. And it was morning.

Fin


End file.
